Derelict {CLOSED} [Where's your god now?]

The air is thin and painful to breathe in, exceptionally typical of a midwinter night in the city. The city does not sleep, but many of its inhabitants do in their little apartments, luxurious penthouses, dingy mattresses by the side of the road. They dream of better lives and never think that somewhere amongst the dirty alleyways and streetlight-illuminated streets that their entire world is about to be flipped upside down.

A crash. Not unusual, but this one is unusually bad. The cars are piled up, smashed against the cement like toys belonging to a cruel child; the truck lies upside down, the wheels still spinning. There is broken glass and twisted metal everywhere: the delicately horrid icing on a tragedy.

Three survive the accident, huddling under orange blankets as paramedics struggle to pull the corpses of those who did not from the wreckage of the car. One driver is especially unfortunate. His body lies through the broken remnants of his windshield, punctured by glass. His back is bent at an unnatural angle, broken by the terrible speeds at which he was hurled from his seat. His seatbelt is draped feebly over his shoulder, ripped out and dangling uselessly from its place on the wall. His bowels lay strewn over the metal body of the car, his abdomen torn open by a jagged piece of metal. In the backseat is his five year old daughter. Her blond hair is streaked with hers and her father's blood, her neck bent like her father's spine. One leg is crushed, unrecognizable from when the truck smashed into the side of the car.

The paramedics call it a real tragedy. They shake their heads as they try to disentangle the girl and her father from the mangled seat belts and the dented metal of the car. Their eyes widen when the girl moves. Their mouths scream in terror when she sinks her milk teeth into a neck and jerks back, tearing through a throat.

The bitten one lurches back, his scream gurgling up through the tear in his throat, and he collapses on the ground, red spewing from his neck as he tries to breathe and finds that he's choking on his own blood as they fill his lungs and gush through his nose. His eyes unfocused as his breathing stops, and he grows paler and paler by the moment.

So the end of humanity begins. On a busy street in the middle of a city where some man and his daughter ran a stoplight. No one knows what it is and by the time they do, it is too late. The man on the dingy mattress cries out when he is attacked, his screams mingling with the rest of the city's as they flee in all directions. Those in their apartments venture out to see what happened, and those clever enough not to emerge call their relatives in panicked voices before the news channels can even get the camera crews out. The rich in their penthouses lock their doors, relieved that they decided to install so much security, and they watch from the safety of their skyscrapers, glad to still be alive.

The city is dead by the next morning.
All the cars have stopped. No honking, no tires screeching, no engines thrumming.
No one walks on the streets. Bodies of policemen and civilians alike litter the ground. The asphalt glistens dark red.
The only sounds are the faint hum of electricity and the occasional sob from a locked apartment.

Somewhere in the city, you sit and you gather your thoughts.
You are ready to face this new world.
​

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Hello, and welcome to the world of Derelict. This is a zombie apocalypse-type roleplay taking place in the modern day world. It's loosely based on the Last of Us world, but with actual zombies instead of those fungus eaten creeps.

Some warnings. This roleplay will allow graphic depictions of violence and gore. It's a zombie apocalypse roleplay. What'd you expect? Otherwise, it will be kept strictly PG-13.
No god-modders allowed. Story development and rolling action should always be a priority. Be nice to each other. Just because your characters are trying to kill each other doesn't mean you guys should be.
On the subject of killing characters: unless the owner of the character allows it, it will not happen. That's kind of related to god-modding. Nuff said.
However, you should remember that your character isn't invincible. This should be reasonably realistic, so there can't be any Wolverine-type healing powers. You WILL suffer injuries, but you WILL survive.
Otherwise, do whatever the heck you want :)

The zombies here are Walking Dead zombies. They like noise but they can't see. They move slowly. They can't climb trees or buildings and while they can sort of climb stairs, they'll trip a lot and it'll take them a lot of time.
Shoot 'em in the head and they're dead.
Lol, that rhymed.

Just one more demand:
Use this layout when posting, and just follow. My. Lead. Or someone else's lead. That's cool too.

[Picture] (Please don't take up the whole page with a picture. Make it around the size of my avatar pic, please. The blue one in the top left corner of my post.)
Name || Age || Occupation
Weapon(s) of choice || Number of kills:

It was snowing. The flakes tumbled down from the sky, white on a grey background. It's quiet, Kohaku thought. I hate it. I hate this silence.

He sat atop the roof of his apartment building, watching the city and blinking whenever a flake landed on his eyelashes. His hands lay in his lap, stained with blood that was not his. He wiped it on the snow. A spot of scarlet in a sea of colorlessness. His thoughts wandered from his school to his room to the knife buckled on his waist to his sister. His sister. His numb legs made as though to get up, and then he slumped down against the ground.
His sister. A 10 year old innocent bundle of joy. She was dead now. Along with his mother. Perhaps his father as well. Being a police sergeant, who knew where his father was at this time? Maybe his father was wandering around as one of those walking monsters, deader than dead, moaning and white faced and pale and hungry for blood.

He had to end their misery. He had to kill his own mother and sister, had to watch them suffer and cry through the pain of the bites and the pain of dying. There was nowhere to bury them. He covered them with blankets and left them lying in their apartment, where he hoped no one would ever disturb them. I'll come back, he vowed. I'll come back when this is all over and I'll make sure you get a proper burial.
Korhaku buried his face in his snow covered arms, thankful for the cold that stung his cheeks and numbed his thoughts. Everyone was dead. Everyone that mattered to him was dead. Or undead. Except for his father. Father might not be dead, his brain reminded him, gentle but adamant. Go.

The revolver shifted against his waist as he picked himself up, dusting the snow off of his pants and jacket. There has to be a quarantine zone set up somewhere, Kohaku thought. If I'm not dead, then there's got to be other survivors, too. I'll find them. And maybe Father'll be there too. I'm gonna make it. I refuse to die.​

"the term "lose" means dropping and allowing yourself to believe you have been defeated, but i have been taught better then that...the more you say no to losing, the less likely you will actually submit.

losing a choice, not a demand..."

It was quiet, peacefull, barely an inch of sound came from out and about the small city that was now inhabited, other then the small sounds of moaning, groaning, and the sounds of feeding coming from the streets below. The streets of the ghetto where almost covered from one side to the other with Zombies, some were walking slowly about the streets, looking for victims to fill their lust for flesh, the flesh of the living that is, most to everyone in the small, broken down streets were infected, and if they weren't, they were being fed on. The sounds of a fist smacking against a face were heard a small ways, the zombies that caught an ear decided to follow it, the others more or less didn't and went about their time. the zombies hungrily trudged towards the noise, hoping that it would be the fill of flesh they were looking for, moving closer and closer, the sounds came from a small white house, the noise obviously not really loud, but loud enough to draw a bit of attention.

Inside, a black male, about twenty at age, pounded away at the face of a half conscience zombie, blow after blow slowly killing it, his knuckles covered from the first knuckle to the back of his hand in metal covering to prevent any bitting or any sort of infection. "you thought you could sneak up on me?" he said angrily, his voice strong and powerful, soon he stopped beating away at the zombie, it twitched and finally gave way, dieing their at the black males gaze, he panted heavily, the punches taking more out of him then he thought, he stood, his hands covered in blood, it dripped lightly from his fingertips as he slowly uncurled his fists, his rage subsiding. The male, who went by the name Texgen Woods, slowly gave a heavy sigh, his tensed muscles beginning to relax and calm out, he walked through the small living room of his mothers home, grabbing the nearest, and cleanest t-shirt and a black trench coat that belonged to his father, both of which were already dead, killed by his hands. Texgen looked a the ground, angered at whatever, or whoever started this outbreak, it hit the streets of the ghetto the hardest, seeing as those that knew so little about it, attacked first and didn't even bothered worrying about lookign twice, his father made that mistake, and he and Texgens mother paid the price for it, now Texgen was alone, at nothing but his thoughts, and his skills he learned to survive and defend himself.

Texgen gasped as he heard the sounds of hissing and groaning coming towards his door, he knew right away that it wasn't a good sound, he ran quickly towards a small wooden chest that was more of a decorative ornament for the room, but inside held a desert Eagle and about four clips, all owned by Texgens father from his time serving the force, and a police baton. Strapping himself up with the weapons that were in the house, and what he "made" himself, Texgen then looked towards the door, lifting the gun up and aiming at the door, soon seeing that it was more then he assumed were their, he knew with four clips, standing their shooting would be suicide, he decided to go through the back door, and hopefully make a run towards the inner city, hopefully he could find survivors, and for the most part, help seeing as he'd only last so long on his own. with a plan, he ran towards the back door, the front being bashed and soon hands of the gross, hideous zombies started to poke through the windows, Texgen moved fast, stopign at hte door, and slowly opened it, looking out at the back yard, their were no more then maybe two or three, not enough to waste much time on, he crept slowly past, moving as quietly and quickly as possible, soon, he hopped a fence into an allyway and took off towards the city, hoping not to get too caught up on his way their, and for the most part being killed in the process.

"Aagh!" A grunt erupted from Kohaku's lips as he stabbed his knife deep into the skull of a zombie and yanked it out, a cold spurt of black blood issuing forth from the creature's head. It collapsed on the snow covered ground before him, its blood continuing to ooze out of the cranial hole. Kohaku shuddered. That one didn't look as... human as the other ones, he thought, slightly relieved. I hate the ones where you can tell they just died. They still look like people, and it's horrible to look at their wounds. Even though... even though you know they're already dead.

He remembered what his sister and his mother looked like. The first two that he had to kill. It wasn't like he had a choice. It was either that or... or... to let them become one of those monsters. And there was no way in hell Kohaku was gonna let that happen. He told himself the same, too. There was no way he was going to let himself become a zombie and trudge around mindlessly the city, preying on other unfortunate survivors. Was it more fortunate to live in hell or to be part of hell? Surely what he was living in now could be considered hell, right? This hell of the newly woken dead, of bloodstains on white snow and on pale hands, of blood splattered faces that glared back at you from reflective surfaces, a face that you knew was yours but seemed like a stranger's... Kohaku wiped his knife off on the zombie's tattered clothing and studied his face on the blade's surface. Pale, a couple blood splatters on his cheeks, and scared almost to death. At least this face looked like his.

Standing up and staring down at the silenced zombie, Kohaku suddenly felt more tired than he'd ever been in his life. The snow had ebbed a bit, but the air was still cold and painful to breathe in. Down the street, he could make out the figures of a dozen or so more zombies just ambling mindlessly, arms outstretched and mouths open in an endless moan. He imagined he could hear their groaning and he shook his head, darting forward, his feet crunching almost inaudibly in the freshly fallen snow. Dimly aware that he was slowly making his way from the heart of the city towards the outskirts, he managed to edge past the zombies without being heard. A relief.

An hour later, he heard a sound. It was a strange, repetitive sound, pretty regular in its intervals, yet definitely from an organic, living being. After all, the zombies didn't know how to run. Deep breaths. Keep your hand on your knife. The other one on the gun.

Kohaku edged towards the building, pressing close against the wall as he peeked around the corner.

It was a dark-skinned male, young and rather muscular, cloaked in a huge black and rather intimidating trench coat. Something glinted near his hands, and Kohaku caught sight of a pair of brass knuckles still dripping with blood. Zombie blood. So that was a good thing. And he was most definitely alive. Kohaku wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not yet.

Well, Kohaku thought to himself. This is one individual I don't want to fight with. But maybe he's an ally. Maybe he'll help me. He seems alone, so I guess he's a survivor like me. Kohaku stepped out from behind the building into the man's sight, hands clasped over his head. "Hey," he called out softly. "Please don't kill me. I just want to talk."

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" Gunfire, sirens and screams... they were my new lullabies... Hunted like dogs, day after day... driven from our ragged shelters... That, is my life. Each morning, I'd wake up... and find a few more of my human kind, dead beside me. I'd stare at the morning sun... and hope to make it through the day. "

"Shit.. Shit.. Shit.." Muttered a female as she made warm small clouds escape from her pink lips. She wore white yoga pants and a large black baggy mens sweater with a backpack full of things along with combat boots on. In the black northface bag she held Medication, bandages, and three water bottles. The things needed incase she would be sick or injure herself. She had to wear light weighted and easy things, as well as pack as lightly as possible. Escaping and outrunning best fitted her, so she figured the further she traveled to wherever, she was sure to find some small stores here and there. Her supplies wouldn't last forever though, but they were just things she found at home and she wore the black hoodie over her head, looking over her shoulders every thirty seconds. She had a right to be paranoid as slow paced zombies roamed the streets. Why at a time like this? It was much to cold, not to mention you couldn't run as easily away from the slow herds of zombies without possibly slipping on ice, then meeting your doom of being feared and eaten alive.

The thought caused the female to shiver. Her hands covered by the large sleeves, you'd be surprised by the look of her that she was fairly warm, but her legs were cold, and were feeling number and number. The blonde didn't stop to rest at all and she stopped to sneeze in her arm. This was now Hell. It was no longer as civilized, you never saw calmer people, you didn't see cars or dogs pass by. All you heard were moans, groans, and hissing from zombies. The slow shuffling of their feet, and the sight of their decaying looking bodies before they met yours and tried to chase after you. Thankfully, they were fairly slow, however you still had to kill them off when they saw you. As the girl stopped and sneezed again, she continued on.

Before this happened she was one of the assistants at the forensic lab with her superior. She wasn't there exactly when the outbreak happened, but rather she left almost an hour before it. God bless her, but then again she was pretty Agnostic. So merely bless her. Her tears were dried on her face as well as snot that had went away. Her eyes and cheeks as well as ears red, she had been crying her eyes off upon seeing her parents get eaten alive. Hearing their yells echoing through her head alone made her heart pound and she sighed to herself."I hate this.. But who doesn't?" She spoke to herself looking down as she quickened her pace while walking. As the girl turned a corner, she immediately almost bumped into a zombie before she let out a gasp startled. She was inches away from it's back and took out her butterfly knife, stabbing it through it's slightly touch skull."Ergh!" She uttered before pulling her knife out the head of the zombie. The blood splattered to her sweater. Her clothes were splattered by red slightly but that didn't matter. As long as she wore comfortable and warm yet light clothing to survive.

Her name was Dolores Belaire, of French and Vietnamese descent. A pretty geeky girl and a dork who once worked in a lab, majoring in forensics... Or Atleast trying to. Yep, growing up she was that geek. Who also played games and read comics and was also always on the computer... Hell if you name it, she's probably done it. To sum everything up, she's just pretty damn quirky and whimsical. Now that life was fading by zombies, there was nothing happy to think about or see. The further she walked, she walked closer to where Kohaku and Texgen were located unbeknownst of herself.

"Hey."

What was that? It must've been in her mind and she walked even faster, scaring herself as she looked over her shoulders. The zombies scattered and roaming around freely. Did she just hear a calm-ish voice? One that didn't yell, or scream, hinting at a herd of zombies? She approached where she assumed she heard it more and heard the small voice again which sounded more clear."Please don't kill me. I just want to talk." She heard. That's when she jogged to listen. Her heart racing. It was someone like her! But how could she trust to join them? They might be crazy. Fuck it. Who cares? Being a group of two or more is more then enough! Soon as she tried to stop and hide behind another building,the girl clumsily slipped on ice she didn't see as she jogged.

"Nnn! Shi--Crap..!" Dolores hissed to herself as slid in the sights of Texgen flat on her back. The girl sat up groaning and rubbed her head. Surprisingly, not crying--It was a pretty hard and fairly dangerous slip and the hoodie dropped, revealing her wild and curly blonde hair. A shadow covered her sun, and when she slowly looked up before she jolted, quite startled to see a dark skinned male. Who seemed tall with the trench coat, menacing, and looked like he have zero fucks. She shook her head, attempting to shake the dizziness off, but only made it worse and sat there holding onto the back of her head. Ok, now she wanted to cry--But she shouldn't! What if she loses her chance of starting a group!? Or joining one just for seeming like a 'crybaby with no potential' who will end up as a liability! Dolores looked up slowly again--seeing legs then another person behind those legs and looked to the side seeing Kohaku. Two guys, one girl. Not that she worried, but it would be a nice group and she looked up at Texgen again, only going from his legs to his brass knuckles which dripped blood. She only faintly saw his face once the first time, and rubbed her wild small blonde locks of curls.

Shit... Don't cry, it was just slipping, you'll ruin your chances, crap, crap, crap... She thought. But it was a fall flat and hitting her head. Damn, she was aware that she was to dazed for a second to even stand up which was why she sat there. There's a gangster muscle, deezed looking dude, he can help you with this thing as a group..... She reassured mentally and her eyes watered up, but she didn't cry."Ugh... That hurts..! I'm so stupid!" She muttered just incase they thought she was a zombie.from the quietness. Dolores looked up at Texgen blinking as she revealed her face and abruptly grabbed onto the sleeves of his coat, pulling herself up and wobbling back before she leaned against the building. She released him after pulling herself up."Sorry! I'm just--Really dizzy! But, I'm not clumsy! I swear!" She squeaked quickly incase he was going to knock her out for abruptly grabbing his sleeve. You shouldn't do things like that, she knew, but it was better then staying quiet or making an even bigger fool of herself!​

Kohaku looked up in surprise when he heard a female voice curse. It was the first voice he'd heard in a while besides his own, and it sounded strange and shrill and utterly foreign to his ears. It was a curse though, and he almost chuckled when he saw the girl with the mess of blond curls tumble and slip haphazardly onto her back. She sat up with a dazed expression and looked far too shaky to stand without help, and Kohaku stepped forward.

"Hey, do you need help?" he started to ask, but to his astonishment, the girl latched onto Texgen's arm and pulled herself to her feet. Christ, she's got guts, he thought to himself, stunned. But she doesn't seem like the living-people-killing type. And I'm not one to leave people behind... company's always good. But this guy... he glanced at Tex. I don't know about him. Don't know if I can trust him.

The girl kept babbling excitedly about her clumsiness, and Kohaku winced, the sound of her voice ridiculously loud in the silence. "Shh!" He gestured at her to keep it down, then glanced around. A zombie lurched around the corner, drawn by the sound of their voices.

Crap. "This way," he whispered to his two companions as he darted towards a doorway down the street. The lock was broken and the knob hung feebly from one nail, as though someone had tried to break it down, but it was somewhere they could hide. Good enough. "Come on," he motioned to them. "If you keep waiting, more are gonna show up, so get in here and we'll figure out a plan to escape."​

It was endless. The constant moans and gurgles of the living dead pounded against the male's eardrums as he attempted to reach a higher location. The streets were infested with walking corpses, mindlessly staggering towards the nearest living thing to tear flesh from bone, and to his dismay, Levente had been the one they targeted. No one else was here as far as he could see, giving him slight anxiety and discomfort knowing that his untimely demise could be at this moment. 'So this is what it feels like being the prey,' he muttered to himself as he ran towards the side of a building. Using forward momentum, he lifted one foot upon reaching the wall and hoisted his body upwards within the second his foot remained in contact. A faint grunt escaped his mouth as he reached for the window sill above his head, pushing his body upwards once again with his legs before successfully getting up. 'No more of this,' Levente panted, watching as the living dead piled beneath him. Was this really how he was going to live his life, running away from mindless bastards? It was at one point during his life when he hunted the living. It shouldn't be the other way around. He pounded his fist against the wall, teeth clenched with anger and confusion. It only occurred to him now to question how all of this even started.
What were these things?

Was it some instinct that led him to avoid them from the start, despite the fact most were living when he knew they should be dead...?
He was alive now so he obviously knew something was up.
It is the apocalypse, no?

But how did this begin?

These things called "zombies". Right. Zombies, with no means of surviving but to devour living humans. Practically immortal unless shot or stabbed in the head. That all seems nice. Levente, fed up with this nonsense, choked out a muffled laugh before breaking through the window and into the building. He could literally give zero fucks with how much noise he's been making as that wasn't entirely what mattered to him. He just wanted to escape from this place - this city - and hopefully find a new life... That is, if this hell hasn't spread anywhere else.

The male grabbed the crossbow from around his back and took time to reload it. Once it was drawn and ready to go, he pulled out a rusted crowbar from his backpack and inspected it. Blood and chunks of flesh coated the object from previous attacks. This served as a secondary weapon if the crossbow was deemed useless at any given time. Placing the melee weapon back into his bag, he climbed back out of the window and repeated what he had done before. Reaching a higher point should be the safer side of things, for it seemed that these zombies lacked the intelligence to climb objects. He slung the crossbow back over his shoulder and climbed the side of the building. Even this could lead to death if he managed to slip and fall... He knew deep down that this was suicide. Why not climb using ladders or stairs like a normal person? Sure, he knew parkour and other methods of freerunning. But this was different due to the fact that his body was shaking from slight fear, screwing him up at times when trying to firmly grasp onto the ledges jutting out the side of the building. A horde of death reached for him from below, their sickening growls filling the air. This was a bloody corpse party. Everywhere was covered in blood and gore, death and suffering. He made sure not to think about such as he finally made it to the top of the short building, panting and collapsing just at the edge. His hands were numb from the cold and how often he used them to reach the top, and his ears were unbearably sore. How much worse could this possibly get...

"Sorry! I'm just--Really dizzy! But, I'm not clumsy! I swear!"

"...""The hell?"Levente sat up upon hearing the faint voice of a girl.A girl's voice.Someone that was alive. There was... a person? No. There is.He stood up and peered over the edge of the building he stood on, seeing three survivors not too far away from where he was. There was a blonde haired girl who seemed slightly embarrassed from previous actions, a dark-skinned male who - maybe to others - looked intimidating, and a younger male who led the others to a temporary hiding spot. Who knew there would be other people in this god forbid place... Levi could've sworn there weren't any others here but decided to shake it off as he began to contemplate. Should he risk his life showing himself to these people or continue surviving independently? Levente wasn't as "social" as one would expect and didn't carry out conversations as well as he should have. It was only when he felt talkative that he would attempt to speak to or work with someone new or familiar, but that was rare.

Fuck it.

f he had to survive another day alone and surrounded by these monsters, he'd have to shoot himself in the head. It was no trouble surviving independently without these freaks. Now there was a whole new threat that he simply did not have time for.He'll just have to be cautious... Humanity can be as harmful as death itself. Could he trust these three?

"Guess there's no other option."'Every decision leads to death... It's up to you how to avoid that and come out stronger than before. It's either live or die.'

Levi made his way down the building after checking if no zombies were near. The horde he attracted was stuck on the other side, fortunately. He hid in the shadows, a good distance from the group. Silence followed behind every footstep he made, a calm yet predatory look on his face as sharp, grey eyes stabbed into the backs of those he was following. He was an intimidating male not to be reckoned with, for his intelligence in combat and archery proves him to be a greater threat than man-eating monsters. Threaten or harm him in any way and he will not hesitate to stab you clean through the chest. Any plans to subdue or execute him forcefully can easily be seen through if poorly set up, and you'll be the one begging for mercy instead.

It isn't violence he's looking for, though. It's a matter of survival.Prove to be the true hero and he'll follow you to the ends of the earth. His trust isn't easily earned, however. Especially in scenarios such as this. The world is a different place now... Levente could feel great amounts of uncertainty entwined with excitement, but did not show it. He maintained his usual bored and stoic expression. He stared at the spot the younger male had led the others to. These three didn't seem all that bad... but still, he hid.​

Heavy breathing mostly filled the sounds around Texgen, frightened as he accidentally caused a small chase with himself and small hoard of at least twenty zombies, but seeing as that was half of his problems, he soon ran through a clearing near a building, he didn't hear the zombies near or around him anymore so it was more or less a sign of retaliation and to regain his calm mind to properly think straight. Adrenaline coursed through his blood stream as he thought he was moments to death, he soon stopped at the corner of the building, slumping down for a moment to breath "damn...why did i think attacking was a good idea? sure i was gonna make some freaking noise..." he said quietly to himself, soon after a few moments of relaxation and slower breaths, He soon was beginning to relax enough to think a little "alright..." he started as he stood up "obviously to much noise is a bad thing...avoid loud loud, obnoxious noises...basically college only dying is way more equivalent and most likely will happen..." he said before walking closer to the corner of the building, soon he was face to face with some white male.

The male looked to be really young, maybe sixteen or seventeen in Texgens eyes, a big looking coat covering his body from his shoulders to his waist, a gun was holstered on his side, a knife perched and clenched hard in the other, he looekd as if he was ready to attack him. Texgen was first wondering why some kid was just out walking in this kind of monstrosity that was life as most saw it right now. AT FIRST, Texgen was ready to wail away at this kid, his instincts street fighting slowly beginning to kick in, but soon he saw that kid drop his guard and relax a little, so Texgen soon did the same, he heard the boy say that he ment him no harm. it was good enough for Tex, soon he relaxed and was ready to speak when he then saw a white lady soon, loudly, make an appearance around him. he flinched as he took a few steps back as she slid in near his legs *geez...where are they all coming from...the god damn sky?* he asked himself in his head, sighing lightly as he watched her slowly try to get up, she was babbling on about something that was easily boring Tex to a very high extent, but her voice and loud speech was really loud, and that would be an issue to them all if she wouldn't shut the hell up.

soon what he expected to happen indeed happened, a zombie soon made its way towards them, not fast, but looked to be able to take them all if they didn't act fast enough *FUCK!!!* he thought to himself as he heard the boy call for them all to follow him "wait...why run...its just one zombie? we all armed ain't we?" he asked them as he heard what he was talking about more showing up and they simply took off running, as much as he wanted to take matters into his own hands and do something about the one zombie, he decided to stay close to these guys, mostly cause it sure beat being by himself the entire time, plus if what the jacket boy said is true, he would rather avoid using any ammo in his Desert Eagle. Tex soon ran behind them, catching up to them and following them into a broken down building, he thought it was a bad idea, but complaining wouldn't do much anyways, soon they were all in this room, not much was said as they were now in silence.

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